I have some sort of bug that has prevented me from doing many of the things I’d hoped to accomplish this weekend — find yarn for my sock pal, read education white papers of the mayoral candidates, and work through de Tocqueville.

I did manage to toddle down to the farmers’ market this morning, but pretty much I’ve moped in bed all day sleeping off and on. I’m on deadline at work, so I’ll have to pull myself together by morning, but otherwise I’d stay home.

Apparently, I will do anything to avoid reading de Tocqueville.

Update (Monday morning): A 102* fever, ague, and two hours up in the middle of the night have convinced me to stay in bed one more day. I awoke in a dead sweat two hours after going to bed last night convinced that the sweater yarn and pattern I bought in the spring would look terrible on me, that the deadline I’m under is going to not be met in a major way, that I’m going to be fired from work, that people in DC weren’t really my friends and were just pretending. Usually I’m pretty unflappable and things like this only stress me out in tiny doses once in a rare while. So clearly my body is trying to fight off some nasty bug and thought I needed nightmares and panic attacks as a symptom to convince me to stay home. So I’m going to listen to my body and am returning to bed. See you when I feel better.